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CHAPTER ONE: TWO PINK LINES

STACEY

Dread pulses through me and my whole body trembles with it.

I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.

I pace back and forth across the dulled tiles of my bathroom floor. I can’t get my racing heart under control. Is this what a panic attack feels like? Like a weight pressing down on your chest so hard you can’t breathe? Like the world is spinning around you so fast you can’t focus on anything except the thing that’s making you panic in the first place?

Part of me wants to call Mom to come upstairs and calm me down. To guide me through this situation, tell me everything’s going to be okay, but I know that’s not what will actually happen. There would be no words of comfort or assurances that everything will be okay. Instead, there would only be disappointment and a lecture criticizing me for making such a colossal mistake and throwing away my future.

I can’t stop looking at the little pink box sitting on the bathroom counter. Why does the box have to be pink? It’s way too cheery. Doesn’t it know my whole world could be falling apart?

Fuck… I should’ve bought Clearblue instead. I wasn’t really thinking about how annoying the color of a pregnancy test could be when I hurriedly picked it out at the drugstore after school. It’d been the cheapest one, but now that I really think about it, was that the right choice? What if it’s less accurate? Damn it! I can’t think clearly! When I was buying this, I’d just wanted to get out of the store as quickly as possible. I’d thought buying tampons was bad, but this has me wishing it was a box of Tampax I’d dropped on that counter. The look on the cashier’s face… ugh! It sticks with me, even though I have way more important things to worry about than what anyone thinks of me.

I could be pregnant.

I could be fucking pregnant!

How could this happen?

Well, okay, I know how it happened. Duh. And I might be getting ahead of myself. Maybe I’m not pregnant! Sure, my period is three weeks late, but there are a lot of reasons it could suddenly be screwy, right? Maybe the stress of my senior year is getting to me. That could be it. There are only two months left of school. I’ve been so busy with college applications and getting ready for graduation that my whole body is probably totally out of sync.

Oh God, please, just let it be stress.

A sudden knock on the bathroom door startles me so badly that I jump and release a yelp.

“Stacey? Are you okay? You’ve been in there for almost twenty minutes. This is our only bathroom, remember? You can’t monopolize it like this.”

Blood drains from my face so fast that I sway on my feet, dizzy and lightheaded. Shit, it’s my mom! My eyes dart from the pregnancy test to the door and back again. If she finds out about this…

“Um… I’m okay,” I call back, wincing at the way my voice cracks. “I’ve just got a stomach ache. No biggie.”

“Oh really?” She doesn’t sound as concerned as she does impatient.

“Yeah,” I try to assure her. “I, uh, just think I ate something off at school. Too much dairy, maybe.”

“What did you eat?” she asks, going into medical mode. “Is your stomach pain sharp or dull? What’s your poop look like?”

“Mom! Gross! I’ll be fine. Stop being so weird. I’m not one of your patients!”

Mom sighs. “All right. I’ve got to get to the hospital for my shift. I’ll be home in the morning, so if you need anything, text me and I’ll bring it home for you, okay?”

Her tone is no-nonsense. She sounds more like a nurse right now than my mother, but that’s nothing new. Sometimes I think it’s easier for her to deal with me if she thinks of me as a patient instead of her daughter.

“Okay,” I croak. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I’ll call later to check on you..”

“All right.”

With that, she leaves. I listen to my mom’s footsteps as she makes her way down the hall toward the stairs. When I can’t hear her anymore, I slip out the bathroom door. Easing my way to the second floor landing, I hide behind the hallway wall and wait until I hear the front door open and close before turning and running to my room. Slamming the door shut behind me, I dive for my phone, which is lying on my bedside table.

There’s only one person I can trust right now, and I can’t do this alone.

Bringing up my friend Grace’s number, I hit the dial button and press the phone to my ear. As it rings, I nervously chew on my thumbnail. I can’t stay still, so I start to pace again, nervous energy pulsing through me.

“Hey, girl!” Grace answers, her voice cheery. “What’s up?”

“I have a problem,” I reply. “Um… can you come over?”

“Sure.” Now she sounds worried. “What’s going on?”

“Just… come over. Please.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I hang up the call and drop my phone on my bed. Unable to help myself, I pace again. I just can’t keep myself from moving. I think part of me is scared that if I stand still for too long, reality will finally catch up to me and I’ll have no choice but to take that test. There’s no way I can do it by myself, though. I just can’t. When Grace gets here, I’ll be able to take it knowing she’s around to pick me up and put me back together if I end up shattering into a million pieces.

About thirty minutes later, the ring of the doorbell echoes through the house. Gasping, I run out of my room and down the stairs. I yank the front door open and Grace is standing on the porch, her bright blue eyes shimmering with concern. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a smooth ponytail. She’s wearing an old hoodie and jean shorts that I’m guessing she threw on in a hurry, because there’s a stain on the front of the hoodie; usually, Grace would never leave her house without being totally put together. She’s tugging on her hoodie’s string in an unconscious, fidgety gesture that shows how anxious she is.

“What’s going on?” she demands to know.

Without saying a word, I yank her into the house, slamming the door shut. “Come with me,” I hiss, and I drag her upstairs to my room.

“Stacey! You’re freaking me out!”

Good, because I’m freaking out too, and I don’t want to do it alone. When we reach the second floor hallway, I let her go and dash into the bathroom to grab the pregnancy test. When I come back out, I throw the box at her.

“I might be in trouble,” I whisper.

Grace’s eyes go wide. Her jaw drops as she looks back up at me.

“Holy shit,” she gasps. “Is that… are you… what…?”

“I don’t know,” I whimper. “I haven’t taken it yet. I’m too scared.”

“Stacey… you think you’re pregnant?”

Tears finally break free from my eyes and pour down my cheeks.

“I’m three weeks late!” I sob, stabbing a hand into my hair and tangling my fingers in the dark red strands. All my fear and anxiety come pouring out of me and I struggle to breathe. “What else could it be?”

So much for my stress-related theory. That goes straight out the window when I start actually being honest with myself.

Grace takes hold of my shoulders and gives them a squeeze.

“Hey, hey, take a breath,” she gently instructs. “It’s going to be okay. Complicated for sure, but it could be worse, yeah?”

I shake my head. “How? How could it be worse?”

I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but seriously? If I’m pregnant, my life is ruined. All my plans and goals are out the window. I’ll be a teenage mother scraping to get by, just like my mom was.

Will I grow as bitter and resentful as she is? Will I look at my child and think about all the things I had to give up in order to raise her?

Oh God, I don’t want to turn into my mother. I don’t want to be that angry and miserable.

“You could be going through this totally alone,” Grace begins in a slow, careful tone, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts, “but you’re not going to, right? You’ve got Owen. Have you told him about this yet?”

Typically, thinking of Owen would calm me down and fill me with warmth, but not in this moment. We’ve been together for two years and the optimistic part of me wants to believe that he’ll stand by my side if I am actually pregnant to support and help me. However, there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head that sounds way too much like Mom’s telling me he’ll cut and run. This doesn’t have to fuck up his future the way it’ll fuck up mine.

We are going to the University of Wisconsin—Madison. Me for pre-med, and then eventually med school to become an orthopedic surgeon, and Owen to play hockey and eventually be drafted to the NHL. We got our acceptance letters a few weeks ago. Our plans are set. The next step of our life together is laid out before us, clear as day… or at least, it was.

Now, nothing is clear. Nothing is certain. Our plans might just be dreams we’ll never be able to realize, all because of one stupid white stick and its stupid pink lines.

“I wanted him here with me while I took the test,” I confess in a whisper. “He hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

Grace takes in a deep breath and gives me a determined look.

“Stace, it’s all going to be okay,” she tells me again. “I’ll stay with you while you take the test. You won’t be alone. You’ll be able to find Owen tomorrow and talk about everything. Just take it one step at a time, all right?”

Though it doesn’t completely wipe away my fears and anxieties, I do feel better having Grace here with me. Braver.

“Okay.” I gulp and give Grace a firm nod. “Okay… okay… I can do this. We can do this.”

“Go take the test. I’ll be right here.”

Giving her one last look, I turn and make my way back into the bathroom. Whatever courage I’d felt at Grace’s encouraging words falters when I’m alone again, peeing on this little stick that could potentially change my life forever.

Once I’m done, I wash my hands and make my way back out to Grace.

“All right. Now… we wait.”

The next two minutes are the longest of my life. Neither Grace nor I say a word as we sit side-by-side on the hallway floor, waiting for the results. Finally, the alarm on my phone goes off, and I hold up the test with trembling hands.

Two pink lines. No… no, no, no, no.

“What’s it say?” Grace asks softly.

“It… it’s positive.”

I’m pregnant.

I’m fucking pregnant .

The world comes to a grinding halt, and it feels like my life does as well. Nothing will ever be the same. All the dreams and plans I have… those all have to change. It’s like I’m having an out of body experience—that I’m watching this frozen moment from a distance. I can’t feel anything except this gut-twisting panic that swirls inside me and grows bigger and bigger and bigger until it becomes difficult to breathe.

Grace hugs me, squeezing me, but I can’t stop staring at the test.

My life is over, and my mom is going to be so mad. So disappointed.

I’m going down the same path she did. She’s pushed me to be so much more my whole life, and yet, I’m right where she was when her own life fell apart. Repeating the cycle.

“Stace? Stace? Call Owen.” Grace is holding my face in both her hands now. When did she stop hugging me? “I can see you’re freaking out. Call him. He’ll be able to calm you down.”

Nodding, I blindly reach for my phone and dial Owen’s number.

Please… please answer this time! Why isn’t he answering? The phone keeps ringing and ringing.

“This is Owen. Can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message.”

Beep.

“Owen… Owen, it’s me.” I can hardly speak. I’m crying so hard. “I didn’t want to tell you this way, but I… I took a pregnancy test.” I glance up and meet Grace’s eyes. Her teeth are buried in her bottom lip as she watches me. She gives me a small nod, encouraging me to keep going even as her eyes dance with worry. “It… it turned out positive. I’m pregnant, and I need you to call me back right now. Please, Owen… I need you.”

Sobbing, I hang up and let the phone slip from my hand. Grace folds me into another hug, and I cry uncontrollably into her shoulder. She holds me and comforts me until my tears slow, and I am able to catch my breath.

“Don’t worry,” she tells me, though I don’t know how not to do that right now. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

“Why won’t he answer?” I shake my head as my tears pour down my cheeks. “He’s been so weird lately… he won’t talk to me. Something’s been going on with him, but… but I didn’t think he’d just ignore me like this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Grace quickly says, squeezing me tighter. “Take a breath. He’ll call you back. This is Owen we’re talking about.”

“You can’t tell anyone.” I look up at her, panic slicing through me. “Please, promise me you won’t tell anyone I’m pregnant.”

“Of course I won’t,” she assures me, her brow furrowed as if my insistence catches her off-guard. “I swear, I won’t say a word, Stace. You can trust me.”

I can. I know that. She might be one of the only people in the whole world I can trust, especially with this. Yet, even with her here, it’s too much to take in. I stare down at the little stick with its two pink lines, wondering what the hell my future holds.

Owen isn’t at school the next day. No one can say for sure why he’s missing. Even his friend Carson, Grace’s brother, is totally clueless when I ask him.

“Sorry, Stace,” he tells me. “He’s not returning my texts.”

I feel nauseous all day, but it isn’t because of morning sickness. Rumors are already spreading about where Owen could be. Some people say that he’s gone to Canada to play hockey, but that couldn’t be true. Why would his mom just up and move them overnight like that? It doesn’t make any sense.

At the end of the day, when the final bell rings, I head straight out of the school building and run toward my old Nissan, intent on driving to his house and getting some answers.

“Stacey! Hold on!” I stop, and turn to find Grace chasing after me. She reaches me and grabs my hand. “Where are you going? To Owen’s?”

“Yeah. I have to talk to him today. He hasn’t called or texted me, and I’m actually getting a little worried.”

Grace nibbles her bottom lip nervously before saying, “Have you heard what people are saying? That he moved?”

“That can’t be true. Maybe he’s sick or something. He wouldn’t just leave like this. He wouldn’t leave me.”

Grace doesn’t appear convinced, but she nods. “Okay, just be careful. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll go by myself. Thanks, though.”

She squeezes my hand, lets go, and steps back. I jump into my car, then zoom out of the parking lot and across town to Owen’s house. My fingers squeeze the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles are white. A feeling of dread is building up deep in my belly. Something feels wrong about his absence.

I just need to see him. Once I see him, everything will be okay. We’ll figure out this baby thing together, and I won’t have to deal with this all by myself.

Owen will be by my side. He has always promised to stay with me no matter what. There’s no way he was lying about that.

When I reach his house, I park next to the curb and hop out to rush up to the front door. Hitting the doorbell, I wait, listening for someone to approach from inside.

I’m met with silence.

Heart pounding, I hit the doorbell again. When there’s still no answer, I raise my fist and start pounding on the door.

“Hello?” I call out. “Owen? It’s Stacey! I need to talk to you. Please let me in!”

Still, there’s no response.

Panic sets in, twisting my stomach and making me feel sick. I dart around the house, looking into the windows, but it’s dark inside. There’s furniture, but I can see that all the pictures are missing from the walls. It’s like every personal touch within the house has been removed.

I make it to the backyard and the detached garage. There are no vehicles to be found.

No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. There’s got to be an explanation!

Running up to the back door, I pound on it as tears start to stream down my cheeks.

“Owen!” I scream. “Owen! Please! Answer the door!”

But he doesn’t answer. The house remains silent and still. Totally empty.

Owen is gone.